


Holding the Umbrella

by akaashie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaashie/pseuds/akaashie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma is struggling with anxiety and depression. Kuroo is trying to figure out how to be supportive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding the Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> **HEAVY DEPRESSION/MENTAL ILLNESS TRIGGER WARNING.**
> 
>  
> 
> I had a bipolar Bokuto in mind when I wrote this, but that really doesn't shine through at all.
> 
> I write super pointless/plotless shit, jsyk.
> 
> This would probably work better as a couple of scenes from a fic rather than standing as a fic on its own. I just wanted to bring some of my headcanons to life!
> 
> Akaashi + violin headcanon was taken from [**here**](http://tsukishima.co.vu/post/96230634905/the-jacket-you-never-returned).
> 
> Special thanks to **[my lovely bestie](http://peeblesandcream.tumblr.com/)** for being my beta ♥ !!

i.

"I thought we were playing volleyball."

"We are! As soon as Akaashi gets here."

"If I wanted to watch someone play video games, don't you think I would have gone to Kenma's~?"

"He'll be here in, like, thirty min--  _gyah!"_

_GAME OVER._

The two are in Bokuto's living room, sitting on the couch, one with his legs crossed, the other with his feet glued to the floor and legs wide as a teenage boy can get them. Bokuto's elbows are against his knees and his hands are clutching a controller between that large gap he has created with his legs. He is leaning so far forward, Kuroo isn't quite sure how the guy hasn't fallen on his face. His best guess is that just before Bokuto loses balance, his character dies.

Like what just happened.

Bokuto drops the controller to slam his palms against his cheeks. "Damn it!"

Kuroo folds his arms across his chest, allowing himself to fall back against a cushion as he snickers. "At least I'd be entertained at Kenma's. Gets kind of boring when you watch someone play the same level five hundred times over ~."

He looks to Bokuto, finds himself himself locking eyes with an exaggerated glare, and grins in return. 

"It's harder than it looks!" Bokuto shouts, picking up the controller once more. "But I'm gunna kick its ass this time!" His attention is back on the screen, his fingers are tapping at buttons and seem to fall into some sort of pattern. A small silence settles over the two for about thirty seconds before Bokuto decides he can play and talk at the same time. "And Akaashi'll be here in, like, thirty minutes. He has violin practice on Saturdays."

"Oh?"

"It gets over around 10:00. He goes home to put everything away and get ready, then comes here. Thirty minutes tops--  _shit. Shit!"_

Kuroo smiles.  _He's already losing again_. "So, you know his schedule? Didn't realize you guys were so close~."

"Whaddya--" Bokuto peels his eye off the screen for half a second--  _half a second, **he swears**_  --to peek over at Kuroo. In that half a second, his character dies. 

_GAME OVER._

"AAAH." Bokuto can't take it anymore. He tosses the controller on the floor, throws himself on the couch, and curls into a ball. "It's impossible!"

Kuroo unfolds his arms to reach for the discarded controller. He picks it up, starts the game from Bokuto's last savepoint, and lets his fingers fall into a steady rhythm of  _tap, tap, tap_  against the buttons. 

Bokuto perks at the sound, then pushes himself to sit up. He and Kuroo seem to have switched sitting positions-- now Bokuto's legs are crossed, and Kuroo's legs are spread out before him. He doesn't lean against them like Bokuto had, though, and he looks to be putting in half the effort that Bokuto had when trying to win the battle on screen.

He does pretty well, at first. Bokuto watches in amazement as Kuroo glides past enemies he had lost to and enemies he hasn't seen before.

Then Kuroo dies.

"What'd I tell you? It's hard!" 

Despite the fact that his brow has furrowed and his face has crinkled into an irked expression, Kuroo smiles. Bokuto had been right--  _it was pretty hard_. Not  _impossible_ , but hard.

He restarts the game from the savepoint, handing over his complete concentration to the task before him. He doesn't even give Bokuto a retort. Not that Bokuto really notices; he becomes silent, watching the screen with a look just short of awe. 

Ten minutes and two deaths later, the level has been beaten. Bokuto throws his hands up and cheers. Kuroo grins and shrugs before tossing the controller back on the floor.

"Damn, you make it look so easy! Kind of pisses me off."

Though he says it, Bokuto is smiling. Kuroo shrugs again.

"Even if a game seems impossible at first, after playing it over and over again, you can conquer it."

Bokuto stretches out, craning his neck to one side, then the other before commenting, "That's something that shorty would say."

Kuroo's grin fades and his posture stiffens.

This goes unnoticed by Bokuto, who continues, "What's been up with you guys, anyway? You're usually everywhere together. Now you're always  _alone_  over here."

Kuroo has picked up the controller again, as well as his smile, not entirely sure where this conversation is headed, but disliking its general direction. He tries to brush it off. "What, tired of my company already?"

Bokuto doesn't catch the hint-- or maybe he does, but doesn't care --and waves a hand in the air. "No, it's not like that! You can come over any time! But that little guy's gotta be getting lonely. You're the only one that really hangs out with him, right?"

"Heh." Kuroo runs his thumbs over the handles of the controller, paying the small action far too much of his attention. He realizes this, then opts to close his eyes and drag a set of digits through his unruly black hair instead. "I'm sure he's fine."

Bokuto half lids his eyes as he interlocks his fingers behind his head. He almost looks uninterested, but, really, he's waiting for Kuroo to either stop beating around the bush or to drop the conversation. "We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

Kuroo allows the controller to drop from his grasp. It hits the ground with a  _thud_ , he notes, and he falls back against the couch cushions with a soft  _poof_.

_Do I want to talk about it?_

Maybe he should talk about the sounds he's picking up on, the music from the game in the background, the traffic from the cars outside, the steps from the neighbor's upstairs,  _anything_ , really, because,  _no_ , he doesn't want to talk about it, even though he knows he  _should_. He really should. Because, if he keeps it to himself,  _if things stay like this_ , nothing is going to get fixed.

Not that things between him and Kenma are  _broken_. But they are certainly  _different_  than how they once were. They are rocky. Confusing, even. And, honestly, he doesn't know what to do with them.

_What am I **supposed**  to do?_ he wonders, unaware that his thoughts have trailed on longer than he had intended and that a drawn-out silence has formed between him and his friend.

Bokuto takes it as the conversation being dropped.

"So, I was watching this match on TV the other day," he starts, letting his hands fall into his lap, "And these guys--"

"I don't know what to do."

Bokuto's eyes widen for a second.

Kuroo's eyes remain closed in the same moment.

He laces his fingers together over his stomach before suddenly revealing dark hues to stare at the ceiling. "It's like-- he closes himself off sometimes. I try to drag him out of it. It used to make things better. Now, it's like it makes things worse."

"Closes himself off? Whaddya mean?"

"Like, literally." Kuroo keeps his face forward, but allows his gaze to trail over to Bokuto.

Bokuto has pulled a pillow into his lap and might as well be cuddling it. His eyes are bright, his expression curious. He says nothing, waiting for Kuroo to continue.

So, Kuroo does, "He locks himself in his room. He did when we were kids, but it's different. He used to let me in. I'd usually drag his ass out and it'd be okay." He closes his eyes again, smiling faintly at a handful of memories that rush into his head. "But now? It doesn't work like that. It makes shit worse. Sometimes he won't even open the door for me."

Bokuto looks to the ceiling in thought. Kenma has never been a person he's understood much about, but he can actually relate to the locking-yourself-in-your-bedroom ordeal. In fact, he can think of a time he felt so bad, he locked himself in for two days straight. His entire team had tried to coax him out at one point, but there was no budging. He just had to let it roll past him and come out of it on his own. It isn't a pleasant memory and it  _surely isn't one he wants to talk about_. Even if he had wanted to, Kuroo doesn't give him the chance. He continues on his own tangent. Bokuto looks back to him, grateful for that.

"I don't even know what to do anymore. When he gets like that, when he locks himself in? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Kuroo's eyes are focused on the ceiling again and he lets out a deep sigh. This is something that has been weighing him down, something that hasn't been spoken of. He thought about asking guys on his team for advice once, but deemed it an untouchable topic. He trusts everyone on the team, he really does, but if it was to slip out somehow--  _if him talking about Kenma was to get to Kenma_  --then what? Would Kenma let him in at all afterwards? He doesn't know. And, quite honestly, it kind of scares him.

He sits up, scratching the back of his head before shifting to lean on his knees.

"I don't know. It just feels like he's fucking drowning, man. He's said that before, too. It feels like he's drowning. And I don't know how to help him. How do you save someone from drowning in their emotions? I don't know. I don't feel like I can save him."

Bokuto gives an easy shrug and looks down to the controller on the floor as he comes to a conclusion.

"Then don't."

His words are weightless, rolling off his tongue as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Something about that pisses Kuroo off.

Maybe he was already pissed off in the first place,  _frustrated_  at his situation. Maybe he's mad now because he feels like the situation isn't that  _simple_ , irritated that Bokuto can dismiss it so  _easily_. Maybe he's angry that his predicament has been going on for  _weeks_ , perhaps even  _months;_  angry that he has spent countless nights thinking of a way around it, through it,  _about_ _it;_  angry at the fact that Kenma is his  _friend_ , his  ** _best friend_** , his  _childhood best friend,_  that he has been beside Kenma for  _years_ , watching Kenma for  _years_ , and as soon as a problem comes up that he can't  _quite figure out_ , as soon as he  _vents to someone_  about this problem, this problem he has been harboring for  _weeks_ , perhaps even  _months_ , they tell him to give up on it.

Maybe,  _just maybe_ , one of those reasons pisses him off.

Even if it isn't one of those, even though Kuroo isn't quite sure  _why_ , he knows that what Bokuto says does, in fact, piss him off. He can feel it narrowing his gaze into a glare and twisting his lips into a smile that might fall just short of grim.

And when he looks to Bokuto, he raises his brow and laces his words with something as sharp as razors. "You think I should just give up on him?"

Bokuto meets his eyes, swallowing hard as the next sentence reaches his ears.

"You think I should just  _let Kenma drown?"_

In a split second, Bokuto forgets what he was going to say. His friend's gaze is pretty intense and his words aren't any more gentle. The situation almost costs him his confidence, but he regains it instantly when his train of thought comes back to him.

"No," he answers with another shrug, "I don't think you should let him  _'drown'_. But I don't think you should try to  _'save'_  him, either."

Kuroo blinks in response, his features softening as Bokuto continues, "Emotions aren't like the ocean. Well, I guess they could be, with calm and rough waters. I like to think of them more as like the weather, though."

Any anger that was boiling in Kuroo has died down to at least a simmer. He watches Bokuto with curiosity as the other leans against the couch's back, shoulder digging into a pillow, wide eyes returning Kuroo's stare.

Bokuto goes on, "Some days are sunny, others are cloudy, then some are rainy. Some days, you start out with overcast, then the sun comes out. Other days, _the weather forecast says there's a 90% chance of clear skies_ , then it ends up raining somehow. Shit happens. Emotions change. You feel one thing in the beginning of the day, then feel another later on. That's normal, right?"

Kuroo nods slowly and Bokuto nods in return. "Yeah, so, y'know, moods change. Sometimes you're trapped in this shit mood of a storm for days. And it doesn't matter how close someone is to you, they can't change the weather at all. They can't stop the rain for you. But, like, it's gunna end, you know? So, no, I don't think you can really  _'save'_  Kenma, because how the hell are you gunna stop a storm? But, I dunno, man, you can still hold an umbrella over him. Dry him off when the rain stops. Technically speaking..." He trails off, looking unsure of himself.

Kuroo smiles. "Is  _metaphorical_  the word you're looking for?"

"You know what I mean!" Bokuto snaps and Kuroo's smile widens. "My point is, it's not like you either have to  _'stop the storm'_  or give up on the situation completely. You really  _can't_  stop a storm, though, so you should probably give up on  _that_."

Kuroo raises his brow again, but says nothing.

Bokuto continues, "And it's not like it's the same for everyone-- some people have a lot more rainy days than other people. And sometimes they forget that rainy days can pass. They have to be reminded. Otherwise, they get lost in it." He shrugs. "Some people. I don't know if it applies to Kenma, but it could." He rolls over to press his back to the couch's cushion. "You'd know better than I would."

Just as he turns his head to look at Kuroo, he hears his doorbell ring. He perks instantly and throws aside the pillow in his lap to push himself to his feet. "That's gotta be Akaashi!" 

Kuroo reclines back in his spot once more, considering everything Bokuto has said.

"Still hold an umbrella over him, huh?" he mutters.

In the background, he hears  _"Sorry for intruding"_  and a short explanation as to why Akaashi is running late. He checks his phone for the first time in forever and sees that it has been well over thirty minutes,  _approaching fifty_ , actually. He then looks at his messages, with one in particular on his mind. It had been sent and received yesterday, but has yet to get a reply.

> 
>     you haven't been over all week..
>     

He finally taps something out and sends it.

> 
>     i know. i can come over tonight, so leave your door unlocked.
>     

Afterwards, he takes a deep breath. He looks up from his phone's screen just in time to catch Akaashi walking in.

"It's about time," he greets with an easy smile, "We were getting worried~."

"Kuroo-san," Akaashi replies, giving a nod in return. The two meet eyes, until Akaashi glances at the screen of Kuroo's phone. 

Kuroo can feel a ping of anxiety cut into his stomach. This Kenma situation has had him on edge for quite some time. He doesn't want to further discuss it. Now he really  _does_  look worried.

Akaashi notes this last fact, but says nothing. He looks to Bokuto who seems to have just remembered something.

"Oh, hey, Akaashi," Bokuto starts, "What do you do when I get in slumps?"

"I don't." Akaashi appears indifferent.

Kuroo and Bokuto share a confused look.

_What exactly does that mean?_

Akaashi doesn't elaborate; he shifts and, for the first time, Kuroo notices he's carrying a duffel bag on one shoulder and a backpack on the other. "Bokuto-san, can I put these in your room?"

Confusion drains out of Bokuto's features. "Yeah, of course!"

He and Kuroo watch blankly as Akaashi disappears into a hallway. The fact that he needs no guidance makes Kuroo curious as to how much time Akaashi spends over here. Bokuto thinks nothing of it, and is instead recalling times he has been upset with Akaashi around, trying to figure out how his "I don't" statement applies.

_They're quiet_ , Akaashi thinks, removing a volleyball from his duffel bag before zipping it shut. He spins the ball in his hands as he returns to the living room. "Are you guys ready?"

Bokuto grins. "You bet!"

Akaashi nods and looks to Kuroo.

_He's checking his phone again_ , he observes inwardly, making a mental footnote to ask Bokuto about it later. For now, he keeps this information to himself. "Let's go."  
  
  
  
  


ii.

It's 9:32 PM when Kenma hears his door crack open. He knows because his eyes have been glued to his phone since he received a text from Kuroo this morning.

He doesn't bother to check who opened it. He remains in the same position he's been in for hours-- face to the wall, back to the door, covers pulled almost completely over his head. Phone held loosely in two hands, eyes trained on the device.

It's 9:33 when hears his door clicks shut.

He holds his breath.

He's nervous.

Maybe even  _scared_.

Yeah,  _definitely_  scared.

Especially when he hears footsteps coming across his room.

He knows they belong to Kuroo. The pattern is so familiar, there is no way he could be mistaken.

_Who else could sound like they walk with the pads of cat paws on their feet?_

And yet, some part of his mind is trying to convince him that it couldn't be Kuroo's footsteps. Trying to protect him  _just in case_  he is wrong.  _Just in case_  those footsteps belong to his mother who has been checking on him every couple of hours, or maybe even his father who might have gotten curious enough to go beyond popping his head in for once.

Even though he  _knows_  those are Kuroo's footsteps, there is a chance he could be wrong.

There is a chance that Kuroo might not come over until later tonight.

There is a chance that Kuroo might not come over at all.

After all, things between him and Kuroo have been feeling distant lately.

If Kenma's honest, things between him and every part of his life have been feeling distant lately.

_Life in general_  has been feeling distant lately.

That makes sense in his head. He is pretty sure it wouldn't make sense to anyone else, though. Maybe not even to Kuroo. 

And that scares him.

Which is stupid, he is pretty sure, because up to now, Kuroo has always been understanding of these sorts of things.

But, somehow,  _now_  seems different.

In the past, they never had to  _talk_  about these sorts of things.

About Kenma's nervousness and Kenma's sadness.

Kuroo has always just kind of known and has always worked around it, worked  _with it_ , without saying much  _about it_.

For some reason, that has changed recently. It's confusing to Kenma, because he can't pinpoint a time when things started to shift. When Kuroo stopped  _just kind of knowing_. But, somewhere along road, something between them must have shifted because Kuroo doesn't seem to  _just kind of know_  anymore.

And Kenma doesn't know how to put it into words for him.

Or the appropriate time to  _try_  to put it into words for him.

It's confusing.

And overwhelming.

He hates it. 

And he hates himself for it.

He lets out the shaky breath he has been holding, only to suck it back in when he feels his covers lift and his mattress dip in the spot behind him.

_It's definitely Kuroo._

It  _smells_  like him. Musky, with a pinch of citrus, and  _something else_. He must have played volleyball today. He hasn't taken a shower to wash the sweat off.

He isn't saying anything.

Kenma is pretty sure Kuroo isn't even facing him.

And he's right.

Kuroo lies parallel to Kenma, staring at the door. He thinks he probably should have made some sort of game plan for this because, now that he lies back-to-back with Kenma, he doesn't know what to say. Honestly, he had been more worried about whether or not the door would be unlocked for him. He hadn't thought about what would come afterward. He had thought whatever happened would come naturally, that the words would find themselves.

But they don't.

And he's left there, lying back-to-back with Kenma, trying to find what isn't coming to him in the darkness of his best friend's room.

Now that he thinks about it, what is there to say?

Kenma has been down. Kenma has been  _really_  down. Kuroo doesn't know how to pick Kenma up from this sort of down, so he has been avoiding the situation and avoiding  _Kenma_. 

Maybe he should start with that.

_Yeah,_  he thinks,  _I should start with that,_  but his mouth won't open.

On the other side of the bed, the silence is killing Kenma.

It normally wouldn't bother him.

Kuroo and Kenma share silences all the time.

Comfortable silences.

But this?

There's something lingering in the air, words that need to be said.

He doesn't know what they are.

He's kind of afraid of what they might be.

But he's more afraid of this strange atmosphere between him and Kuroo.

And that, maybe, if he doesn't cut this tension somehow, Kuroo will leave.

Which is a stupid thought.

Because when has Kuroo ever left?

Still, Kenma is nervous.

_Scared._

He exhales slowly and tries to find his voice.

So that, maybe, he can cut this tension.

"Kuroo..."

"I'm sorry."

Kenma's eyes widen for a second. He doesn't say anything, waiting for Kuroo to continue.

Kuroo doesn't.

Moments slip past them and a word isn't said.

Kenma opens his mouth to speak again.

But it's Kuroo who talks.

"You've been down and I don't know how to help, so I've been avoiding you."

Kenma struggles to keep his lips from quivering as he takes a deep breath. He can feel his eyes start to sting after he blinks.

_Please don't,_  he begs himself because crying over something like this is so stupid. 

Because the word  _avoid_  shouldn't hurt so much.

But it does. It carves into him and twists itself around in his throat. It ties knots into his stomach, then rips those knots out of him. It makes him want to curl up and scream.

_I've been avoiding you._

Why does that hurt so badly? The distance was already there. The act of avoiding had already been committed. So, why does it hurt so badly to hear it out loud?

He doesn't know why, but it hurts.

He knows it hurts.

Kuroo knows, too. At least,  _he can assume as much_.

He takes a deep breath and wipes a hand over his face. He hurt Kenma. He knows it. He's  _pretty damn sure_ , at the very least.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "You were starting to shut down again and I didn't know what to do, so I avoided you. It's fucked up and I'm sorry, Kenma. I'm really sorry."

Kenma doesn't know how to respond. He isn't sure he  _can_  respond. A tear is beginning to trickle down his face and he can feel more coming. Somehow, it feels as though they have balled themselves in his throat, like they're threatening to crack his voice.

He doesn't want to face that embarrassment right now.

And he doesn't want to push Kuroo any further away than he already has. He doesn't want Kuroo to avoid him anymore. 

"It's fine," he murmurs.

He wants it to be fine. He wants things between them to be fine. Because he can't take anything else right now. He wouldn't know how to fix it if things between them weren't fine.

"It's not fine," Kuroo says. It comes out harsher than either boy expects. Kuroo inhales slowly, making sure to soften his voice before he speaks again, "It's fucked up. To leave you when you're sad, is fucked up. Even if I didn't know what to do, what I did is really fucked up, Kenma. I fucked up. And I'm sorry."

Kenma nods, trying his best to keep in the tears that are already trailing down his cheeks and hold back the shivers that are already trembling throughout his body. He nods because he doesn't know what else to do.

Kuroo doesn't know what to do, either. He just admitted that.

Neither one knows what to do and both have been dealing with this for  _years_.

What can that mean?

Kenma doesn't know.

So, he gives a nod Kuroo can't see, then realizes he needs to say it out loud because it's ten o'clock at night, it's dark in his room, and even if it wasn't, Kuroo isn't facing him.

So, he says, "Okay."

And when he says, "Okay," he feels his voice finally crack because all of this is coming down on him and he can't hold it in anymore.

And he cries.

He  _really_  cries.

He drops his phone for the first time since he checked it this morning to cover his face with his hands because this is  _embarrassing_.

He curls up as much as he can and whines into his palms because his entire body is aching and trembling and it  _hurts_.

He wipes at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt because snot is starting to run like the tears have been and it's gross and messy,  _just like how he feels inside_.

And he cries because of it.

And when he feels an arm come around his waist and his body being pulled to rest against his best friend's, he cries harder.

Because he doesn't know what to do. Because it hurts. Because he still feels sad and scared. Because he expected Kuroo to leave and avoid him again.

But Kuroo hasn't left.

He had rolled over the moment he heard a hitch in Kenma's voice. Some kind of instinct must have kicked in, because he pulled Kenma into his arms and, before he realized it, his figure was curled around Kenma's.

Now, he closes his eyes and keeps his voice just above a whisper as he says, "Hey..." He shifts to fit better against Kenma and tries to pull himself even closer. "If you want it to be fine, it's fine. I don't know what to do, Kenma. You have to tell me."

All Kenma can do is shake his head.

Because he  _doesn't know_.

He doesn't know what Kuroo should do.

He doesn't know what he should do himself.

_"I don't know,"_ he breathes out.

It's all he can manage with his choppy breathing and quivering lips.

It's all he can manage with this situation.

He hates that.

He hates how his words come out broken.

He hates how they sound empty.

How else could they sound, though?

Kenma  _feels_  broken.

He  _feels_  empty.

He feels Kuroo's chest against his back, he feels Kuroo's arm around his waist, he feels Kuroo's hand trailing up and down his stomach. He feels like this should all be comforting, that he should feel  _comforted_ , but all he feels is  _emptiness_. 

It's like there isn't anything inside of him.

He has to wonder if Kuroo can feel it?

_Can Kuroo feel his emptiness?_

Kuroo stays silent. He doesn't know what to say and, even if he did, he can't help but think that he should be quiet. As Kenma cries and shakes in his arms, Kuroo thinks it right to give him the silence to do that. To give Kenma the chance to let it all out without interruption.

Which is pretty hard, somehow. Every time Kenma sniffles, Kuroo wants to say something.  _It's going to be okay. I'm here now. I won't leave._  But the words sound invasive when he plays them in his head.

Especially when he thinks of how he left Kenma to himself this past week.

So, he keeps his words to himself and holds Kenma against him. He holds him a bit tighter each time he catches a whimper or a shudder that seems harsher than the rest. He waits until Kenma stops shaking. Until Kenma's breathing starts to even out. Until he is sure that the storm has reached some sort of calm.

Then he chuckles under his breath and buries his nose in Kenma's hair.

"I don't know what to do, either," he says. "So, I guess that makes two of us."

Kenma cracks a small smile, nodding before rubbing his eyes. "Yeah."

Kuroo shrugs and smiles, too. "At least we're on the same page."

Kenma makes a noise, something between a giggle and a hiccup. "Yeah."

He sniffles and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. It doesn't do much help because it's wet and slimy from its previous use. He laughs a little at that.

"What?" Kuroo asks.

Kenma swallows and takes a deep breath. Another tear rolls down his cheek, but he has the feeling it could be the last one for tonight. "My sleeve is gross..."

Kuroo peers down to his arm that is mostly revealed thanks to him wearing a t-shirt and nearly invisible thanks to the light being off. "You can use mine, but you'll have to turn around~."

"Yours will be gross, too..."

"Oh?"

"You smell like sweat."

Kuroo pulls away from Kenma long enough to yank his collar from his neck and give himself a whiff.  _Yeah_ , he really does smell like sweat. He grimaces at first, but finds himself grinning half a second later when an idea pops in his head. 

He moves to hover over Kenma-- which is kind of hard because, while his eyes have adjusted to the darkness by now and the lights from miscellaneous gaming consoles being charged make it easier to see, it's still  _pretty damn dark_  --and raises his arm. "How's this smell?"

Kenma catches on quickly--  _this kind of thing should have been expected_  --and rolls over onto his back to push Kuroo away from him.  _He is not about to get an armpit to the face._  "It's gross," he says, laughing as he swats at Kuroo's arm.

Kuroo laughs with him and keeps at it. "What was that? Couldn't hear you~."

"I said stop!" Kenma chokes out, unable to push Kuroo's arm away on account of his laughter. He gives up and opts to squeeze his nose shut with his hand instead. "You're gross."

Kuroo feigns offense, gasping as he lowers his arm. He still hovers over Kenma. "You think I'm  _gross?"_

Kenma lets go of his nose that had still been full of snot,  _apparently_ , cringing at the fact that said snot is now all over his hand. "Yeah," he replies, "This is, too." He wipes his hand down Kuroo's shirt, which proves to be an effective tactic.

"Did you just wipe your snot on me?"

Kenma says nothing in return, averting his eyes to his left as Kuroo flops onto his back at Kenma's right.

Kuroo lands with a bounce that shakes the entire bed. "That's gross!"

"Guess we're on the same page..." Kenma's voice is quiet. He bites down on his lip to hold back a chuckle until he hears Kuroo busting up beside him.

"Oh my god." Kuroo doesn't say anything for a solid minute. He curls onto his side, cradling his stomach as he laughs. When his fit finally dies down, he wipes a tear from his eye and lets out a content sigh. "Yeah, guess so."

Kenma lets out his own sigh at the same time. The two find themselves laughing another solid minute over  _that_.

It passes and they end up on their backs, side by side in the dark, each smiling in his own way. 

A second silence falls over them for the night, one that both are familiar with.

One that they're both _comfortable_ with.  
  
  
  


 

iii.

Friday evening, Nekoma's practice ends a little earlier than usual.

_"Thanks for the hard work!"_

Voices can be heard from their locker room, eager voices that come from being excited to celebrate the weekend.

"We're going to karaoke tonight," Yaku says, "Are you coming?" 

Kuroo shuts his locker, taking on a sly grin. "And sit through Yamamoto ruining American pop songs? I think I'll pass~."

"It's hard to sing in English!" Yamamoto barks.

Kuroo's grin widens. "Who said it was your English that's bad~?"

**_"The hell's that supposed to mean?!"_ **

"That you're too damn loud." Kuroo puts a hand against his ear and scowls. 

_His English is bad though, too,_  Fukunaga thinks, inwardly laughing, outwardly staring at the scene before him.

Kenma watches the scene, as well, but from his peripheral. His eyes are fixated on his phone, his thumbs are tapping at its screen. A new game he downloaded Wednesday night has had most of his attention today. He zones in on it for a moment, long enough to miss Kuroo lifting his bag onto one shoulder and Kenma's bag onto the other before approaching the blond.

"You ready?"

Kenma looks up to meet Kuroo's eyes. That grin of his is familiar. Some part of Kenma is happy to feel that familiarity.

"Yeah," he replies. He gives a simple,  _"Thanks for the hard work,"_  to no one in particular before walking out the door.

Kuroo follows him, calling over his shoulder, "Practice is at noon on Sunday."

The rest of the team responds with a unified,  ** _"Osu!"_**  before settling into a comfortable hum of shuffling through clothes and water bottles.

"They've been hanging out a lot this week, huh?" Inuoka asks as he ties a shoe.

"They're always hanging out," Yamamoto replies, "That's why neither of them can get a girlfriend!"

"And what would  _you_  know about getting a girlfriend?" Yaku cuts in, sending his teammate a sideways glare.

Everyone laughs, save Yamamoto, whose face has turned red.

Yaku's eyes move back to his locker before he shuts it. "Looks like things are back to normal."

Inuoka tilts his head, curiosity sprawled across his face. "Back to normal?"

Kai hangs in the doorway, watching as his captain and his setter follow a sidewalk and disappear behind a building. He smiles. "Yeah. I'm glad."

**Author's Note:**

> *cue image of Kuroo holding and umbrella over him and Kenma as we watch them walk away*
> 
> Pffff.
> 
> The entire time I was writing the footstep part, I had this strong urge to randomly flip it into a horror scene. **{possible horror trigger warning ahead, pls be cautious}** Like, those footsteps don't belong to Kuroo... because Kuroo is **_dead_**. Kenma would catch on just before the killer tried to stab him or smth, then would have to run around his house trying to escape. Annnnd, maybe Kuroo actually wouldn't have died, he would have just gotten stabbed and the killer was dumb and thought he dehd but nah he hasn't bled out yet and BOOM STAB YAH W/ A KITCHEN KNIFE WHEN YOU'RE CAUGHT OFF GUARD KILLER MAN. **{possible horror trigger warning ends here}**  Idk, I would make a shitty horror writer, but someone else was thinking something like this during the footstep part, too, right?
> 
> Heu heu ~.
> 
> Anyway! Thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed ~.


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